


How I Met My Soulmate

by RoseFangedLion, TheNevemore



Category: 2PM (Band), B1A4, Big Bang (Band), EXO (Band), GOT7, K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Broadway dreams, Event Planner, Fencing, Flower Boy Trio, Idol & Fan, M/M, SungSoo, chef, cute smol pianists, markson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-12 18:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseFangedLion/pseuds/RoseFangedLion, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNevemore/pseuds/TheNevemore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles in a world where if someone over the age of eighteen comes within a certain distance of their soulmate they will start saying that person's name until the two are united.</p><p>Chapter Five: Sometimes Jin thinks food is the best thing in the whole entire world. And, you know, maybe he's right: Food did lead him to his soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fencing (RFL)

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a throw back to TheNevemore and my separate experiences with fencing in high school. 
> 
> Also; we came up with this idea on the way home from New Jersey after the MADE concert last year and are just now getting around to playing with it.

The most obtrusive downside to fencing, for Jackson particularly, is that emotion was always the real enemy. It's not the sort of sport where anger can be taken to the strip. Not even annoyance or love or excitement. Nothing. 

Had a bad day? Suck it up. Failed a test? Better lock it up.Family member died? Put that ish in a tower.

Think Elsa; Emotionless snow people. Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show. 

This was a huge problem because Jackson is a seething ball of emotions. All of the time. But most especially when he’s the anchor in the world's worst team bout. Oh man...they were all going to get chewed out for this later

The buzzer went off again. One final fateful time. Leo was fuming as he pulled his mask off and huffed his way back to coach. The black haired man’s sharp features were nothing compared to the daggers in his eyes. Sweat was drooling off his face and dripping from his hair, which was itself an indication because that dude always wiped his sweat right away. 

So as you could imagine there was a pit of rage and anxiety swirling down in Jackson’s stomach as he stood to face his own demise. Well...maybe that was a bit dramatic. He was the anchor for a reason. But he had also just watched his whole team go down to other’s third in line. A speedy, twiggy thing. Rabbit footed. His bouncing was his advantage. It was disorienting and kind of annoying. So...dare he say...foil? 

It was a saber match so the politics of that particular thought were another matter entirely. 

He sighed the whole way through checking his gear and stepped up to the piste with fire trying to burn it's way out his mouth. This was going to be one of those screaming matches. The silver blond was sure of it. 

With his mask off he approached the center staring squarely at his own two feet until he absolutely had to look up. That moment came faster than it should have. As the other young man’s feet came into view Jackson’s mouth opened on its own. 

As the name “Mark,” came bellowing out his lips an echoed “Jackson,” was shouted in a much sweeter softer tone and that's when the silver haired man looked up.

The room went dead silent. Which...at a fencing tournament ...is quite a feat. All other shouting,clacking, slamming, shuffling just stopped. Everyone turned to them. 

That's when, wide eyed and terrified, Jackson’s eyes met those of the sweaty brunette across from him. A dizzying my beautiful smirk crossed Mark’s face as he held his saber out. 

Jackson refunded the gesture and they knocked guards in a handshake. 

“Well,” he chuckled as he slid his mask on clumsily, “at least we have something in common.”


	2. My Idol (Nev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hwang Chansung could not bias Do Kyungsoo any harder if he tried. But when he goes to the idol's concert, he gets the surprise of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how un-betaed this is. I will try to do a revision of this up soon... I just was too excited to wait to post it. Hope you enjoy!

Listening to his bandmates clamor over one another was almost enough to give Kyungsoo a headache. Almost. But, after three years as the leader of H-Art, the brunet was used to their antics. Well, most of them. The one thing he could not ever seem to get used to was the way BamBam and Yugyeom would catch one another’s gaze, that special frisson sizzling between them. Or the way Hyuk and Sungjae would gravitate towards one another, all without noticing. Soulmates. Soo wrinkled his nose. It was cute in theory, sure, but spending his nearly every waking moment around two pairs of soulmates was a drag, especially since his was nowhere to be found.

It was another day, another concert when his life took an unexpected turn. He was seated in the makeup chair, trying to not fall asleep, as Yugyeom and Hyuk filmed a V-Live broadcast, teasing their darling Impressions with hints about the upcoming lightstick release. Their company had found it a bit challenging to create something suitable for their fandom, but Hyuk was something of a mad genius. And a troll. The two combined meant that he had not only solved the conundrum but was bent on taunting the fandom with the information he was gleefully withholding. Soo didn’t mind the broadcast: It kept the pair busy. BamBam and Sungjae were the ones he had to worry about. The pair had slipped out of the room as soon as their makeup was done, and the leader had not heard them come back. He sighed a little. It was like his entire band was made up of maknaes; he never seemed to get a break.

Chansung, on the other hand, was electric energy and boundless excitement before the concert. He had first become an Impression when he had first watched Kyungsoo on _King of Masked Singer_. The very first notes that the small brunet had sung wound around the strings of Chansung’s heart, embedding themselves as though they had been written to hang between the fibers. As soon as the man’s was revealed – on the second episode! – Chansung had stayed up until four in the morning watching YouTube videos: dance practices, music videos, song covers. Anything he could get his hands on. The next day, he had gone out and bought physical copies of H-Art’s cds and signed up for the official fan café.

His friends had teased him mercilessly for being so interested in a boy band, but they still let him play every new video for them and had eventually ended up buying the music for themselves. But, perhaps best of all, WooYoung, Junho, and Minjun pitched in together to buy pit tickets to the final leg of H-Art’s world tour. It was two years’ worth of pining and sighing finally being realized. His friends were the literal best. WooYoung even designed Chansung a special shirt to wear: black and fitted, with a stag bursting across the left side of the ribcage, looking as though it were a galaxy. When Chansung had asked why the stag, WooYoung had snorted and simply said, “H-Art. Hart. Y’know, like the deer? It’s a wordplay.” He had then rolled his eyes and clipped a thick, leather band around Chansung’s wrist. Minjun had then declared if Chansung were going to see the love of his life, he might as well really look the part. So, the cinnamon haired man had seen to it that Chansung’s eyes were lined in just the right amount of eyeliner and his hair was perfectly tousled, as though he were the idol instead of Kyungsoo. And Junho? Well, he agreed to buy ice cream after the concert was over.

Kyungsoo sighed as the stylists passed him his first outfit. He was not entirely certain how his pants were even considered decent: there were more rips in them than actual fabric holding them together on the front. The brunet seriously questioned why his fans needed to see his thighs at all. But, like a good idol, he slipped them on (with a great deal of wiggling and jumping from foot to foot in the process). Then came the ridiculously tight white shirt with a cobalt leather jacket – another piece that made no sense. Who wanted to wear a leather jacket under stage lights while dancing? And the shirt was so tight that it made some of the dance moves hard to do. If he had a perfect world, he would be wearing just a regular pair of pants and a comfortable shirt, but apparently that was not “glamorous” enough. Or something.

Chansung, meanwhile, was waiting with the rest of the Impressions in the line that twisted around the venue. They were mere moments away from being allowed inside, and he was practically vibrating with excitement. Tugging on the tail of WooYoung’s shirt, he asked, “Do you think they’ll do ‘I See You’ or ‘Tempest’ tonight? I really want them to do ‘Tempest.’ It’s seriously the best track off their new album.”

A girl behind them perked up at Chansung’s words. “Oh my goodness, I love that song!” she all but squealed.

Chansung spun to face her, a wide grin on his lips. “You do? I seriously listened to it on repeat for a month straight. I could sing it in my sleep.”

“He does sing it in his sleep,” Minjun muttered under his breath.

The girl giggled cutely, her eyes turning into happy little crescents. “Who is your bias? I love, love Yugyeom! His dancing is just to die for. I could literal watch him dance all day.”

“He is so talented,” Chansung agreed. “I love his Insta videos he posts. But, I am completely gone for Kyungsoo. The moment I heard his voice for the first time.” With a sigh, he put his hand over his heart. “Love. He is my ultimate.”

“His voice is perfect. I swear, they just distilled awesomeness and gave it human form when Kyungsoo was born,” the girl agreed. “And he’s so cute! So squishy and so angry!”

As the pair fell into talking about how much they loved all of the members, Kyungsoo was finishing up sound check. Once satisfied that the sound balance was correct and that he was familiar with the stage, the brunet reached over to slap Hyuk’s butt. “You ready for tonight?”

Hyuk clucked his tongue. “When am I ever not ready?” he drawled. “It’s gonna be a great show. I heard the staff talking about how the line goes on forever. Sold out show.”

Kyungsoo nodded a little, stretching his arms over his head. “Yeah. That’s what they said.” He shrugged. “I hope they’re more lively than last night’s crowd. They couldn’t even manage to hold up a fanchant for more than a minute before the show began.”

“Be nice,” Hyuk chastised, reaching over to poke the leader in his side. “At least they like us enough to try.”

“Is Soo being salty about the fanchants again?” Sungjae asked, hooking his chin over Hyuk’s shoulder.

“Yep.” Hyuk let the ‘p’ pop with particular enthusiasm. “It’s practically tradition at this point. If he weren’t grumping about that, I’d think he was a changeling.”

“He does do it every time,” Sungjae agreed, his hand sneaking around Hyuk’s waist. “Except that one time at the Golden Disks.”

Hyuk snickered. “Then he complained about the chants being too loud,” he agreed.

Rolling his eyes, the petite brunet ignored the pair and sauntered off stage. He downed a quick bottle of water before moving into the green room to wait for the show to start. Maybe he could even sneak in a nap, if the soulmates were all too busy snuggling each other to bother him. That’d be nice.

Walking into the venue was like walking into church. … If church were full of screaming fans and a glowing screen and bright lights. Okay, so maybe not church. But it felt like he was stepping into a place where something special – something once in a lifetime – was bound to happen. He couldn’t help but talk softly to his friends, his eyes bright as he fought to take in every detail. Being in the pit was both a blessing and a curse, because it meant he could get _right there_ (maybe even touch them!) but he was so tall that getting to the front would be rude to the fans behind him. Torn apart, he finally decided that he would not make a bid to be pressed up against the stage until the opportune moment. Yeah, that was smart. Drawing Minjun and Junho into his sides, Chansung swayed a little. “We should take a selfie,” he decided. “Proof that we were here.”

WooYoung gave his eyes roll but pulled out his phone. “Okay, giant mcgiant pants. Y’all stand back there, and I’ll take it. Might as well get the screen behind us – it has the logo and all that jazz.”

“Make it a good one,” Chansung quipped. “I’m going to print it for my wall.”

Looking over his shoulder, WooYoung raised an eyebrow. “When have I ever taken a bad selfie, Hwang Chansung? Huh?” He narrowed his eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

The crowd was absolute fire. Even Kyungsoo, who pretended to be so aloof, could not fight back a grin at the solid five minutes of chanting that lead up to the start of the show. It was hard to hide the way his hands shook from adrenaline; there was something different in the air that made his blood practically sing. Even when they ran on stage, bursting into the opening lines of “Hunting,” he had an added spring to his step and a gleam in his eye that had nothing to do with the bright lights. As they moved through each set, the tension wound through his body until it seemed every vein was about to snap. It made him sing harder, tossing himself almost recklessly into the notes. Hyuk at one point, in one of the quick moments back stage, asked what he was on, because this was the Soo from debut – the one who was so hungry to perform that he would spend his every waking moment singing or dancing.

When it came time for his solo, Kyungsoo at least was styled more realistically. All black: suit, shirt, skinny tie. It was comfortable, elegant, and subtle – just the way he liked it. He had even allowed the stylist to push his hair up and back to show off the breadth of his forehead. Stepping out onto the stage, he took a steadying breath as the fog spilled across the black floor. It was a simple staging: just him standing center under a backlight that haloed him, making him look like a dark angel, according to fan accounts. There was no dancing, no scurrying around. Just him and the music and his precious fans. In the quiet opening beats of Ed Sheeran’s “Kiss Me,” Kyungsoo could practically feel the love the fans felt for him, and this song… this was his quiet way of giving that love back to them. He might not have a soulmate, but he did have the Impressions. They cherished him, even though he was not the best at expressing his feelings, and through music he could open his heart a little, let them closer.

As he sang of love and holding a lover close, Kyungsoo could not help the way his heart ached. It had been so easy to get lost in the craze of training and debuting and performing; it was almost possible to forget just how alone he was. Every morning he would wake up and spend a few minutes contemplating the sprawl of his bed. The company had given him his own room – for “someday” they had said – and a large bed to go with it. A bed for two. Every morning, though, it was just him, alone in the vastness of the white sheets and downy coverlet. He wondered if his soulmate was even alive and if they would ever meet. What it would be like to hold them close and stare into their eyes, to feel that indescribable love that soulmates were supposed to share. Everyone said that a soulmate was like finding the best part of yourself and falling into the most perfect kind of love there was. It was written into your very being, they claimed, to love that one person whose name would rise unbidden from your lips when you came close enough to them. And, though he would never admit it, Kyungsoo longed for that moment so deeply that it ached in the marrow of his bones. He wanted to feel loved, to give love, to have a person who was entirely his own. Pouring that longing into his voice, he caressed every syllable and filled it with a nearly pained desperation – every empty morning, every cold night coloring the words.

“And your heart's against my chest, your lips pressed in my neck,” he sang, closing his eyes as the words filled him. “I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet.” He hoped with his whole soul that his perfect mate was happy, that life had been kind to them. But most of all, he hoped they dreamed of him the way he dreamed of them. “And with a feeling I'll forget –” Suddenly, there was a strange pressure in his chest that pushed against his teeth like too much air had become trapped in his body. He shuddered, and the next moment he fought to continue on with the song, nearly gasping the next line, “I'm in love now – Hwang Chansung.” His fingers became numb, and the microphone slipped dangerously between his fingers. Eyes flying open, he began to scan the crowd. Hwang Chansung. He had never heard a more beautiful sound in all his life.

When Kyungsoo had appeared on stage – alone! – Chansung felt his heart triple in speed. He had seen fan accounts about the song, and he just knew this was the right moment to get closer. Surely the other fans would understand that, as a Soo-stan, he just needed to be pressed up against the stage for this song. Then, he could happily drift back and enjoy the rest of the concert; he’d have fulfilled his dream. So, carefully, he began to shift through the crowd even as the opening lines of the song filled the hush of the venue. If you asked him later, Chansung would not be able to tell you if his friends followed in his wake or how he had gotten to the front so quickly. All Chansung could see was the beautiful brunet, wreathed in light, standing in the center of the stage; all he could hear was the soft, soulful sound of the mellow tenor voice; all he was, in that moment, was Do Kyungsoo. Coming up to the edge of the stage, he leaned his elbows on the edge and stared adoringly up at his ultimate bias when the air shifted. He had intended to stand in worshipful silence – okay, maybe sway a little and swoon – when his lips parted. Three syllables fell into the air: “Do Kyungsoo.”

Had that been the only thing to happen, Chansung would have dismissed the moment as his fanboy heart giving out. But then, miraculously, Kyungsoo’s warm voice hitched mid line and words penned by some eternal author burst into existence: “Hwang Chansung.”

The world stopped. No, it began to spin faster. Chansung was not actually sure what was going on, just that he felt rather like his body had dissolved in the rushing heat that flooded his body at the sound of his name on Kyungsoo’s lips. As the idol’s eyes flew open, Chansung could hear the gasp that resounded through the crowd. Kyungsoo lifted one hand to cover his eyes, fighting to see into the pitchy darkness of the venue, even as the microphone dangled listlessly in his other hand. Behind him, the band fell silent, and a murmur arose among the gathered fans. Suddenly, from his left, a bright voice called, “He’s right here!” Chansung whipped his head to the side, and there was WooYoung and Junho bouncing and pointing right at Chansung. As though oil had hit water, the gathered Impressions cleared in a wide circle around the tall brunet.

The sound of footsteps crossing hurriedly across the stage drew Chansung’s attention back up to Kyungsoo, who was _right there. Standing at the edge of the stage._ “Chansung?” he murmured, softly enough that only those immediately around them could even hear him. Feeling as though every bit of oxygen had been squeezed out of his body, Chansung managed a tiny nod. A wide, blinding smile turned Kyungsoo’s lips: the top bow pulling into two perfect arches and the bottom drawing into a tight triangle – his mouth literally became a heart as he beamed down at his soulmate. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you, my Chansung.” And then, he held out one small, broad hand.

Thanks to his height, Chansung made it up onto the stage easily. He towered easily over Kyungsoo, and he could not resist pulling the idol into his arms. Everything felt perfect, from the way the man fit against him to the way his wide, beautiful eyes looked up at him. Kyungsoo was even the perfect height to tuck his head in against Chansung’s collarbones and neck. The taller man’s heart thumped happily at the thought of how even their bodies, not just their souls, had been made to testify to the world of how perfect they were for one another. Without quite realizing it, Chansung had started to lean down, lost in the molten walnut depths of Kyungsoo’s eyes. It was only when Kyungsoo rose up onto his toes to meet him, bringing their lips together for a light kiss, that the man even realized what he had done. But there was no chance to regret the brashness: He was too busy losing himself in the wonderful sensation of his soulmate’s mouth moving against his own.

Within an hour, the fancams of the moment were all over the internet, turned into gifs, and even subbed in sixteen different languages. SungSoo was sailing.


	3. Through Work..and Seungri? (RFL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiyong is sure he's doomed to be alone forever so he's dedicated his whole life to event planning for New York's richest and most ridiculous. A twist of fate and some Seunghyun induced weirdness might hangs that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this posting twice...and then disappearing. I have no idea how that happened.

It was on the evening of his 23rd birthday that Kwon Jiyong really and truly gave up on finding his soulmate. He enrolled in college, got an internship at a fashion design studio and that was that. He never looked back...well except he did sort of because it turned out he hated fashion design. Point being, at 23, with no soulmate in sight he decided he’d be damned if he was going to sit around waiting and be a menace to society. 

He did date some here and there, other people like him. Older. Soulmate-less. It was a weird little subculture that came with being in college and not married. People got into romantic relationships with the understanding that they would someday have to break up. But there came a point where he couldn't bear the heartbreak of that anymore. Shortly after he graduated he gave up dating. The companionship wasn't worth it. Watching partner after partner find their someone while he remained. 

Jiyong carved out a nice life for himself. At 29 going on 30 he had his own place; a nice brownstone big enough for the family he still held out hope for...not a lot of hope, just a little dog eared corner of a book.

And he had one heck of a reputation as New York City’s most sought after event planner. He did birthdays, art gallery openings, holiday parties, corporate events, graduations, and basically everything but weddings. Weddings made him bitter.

The man had a knack for sweet talking venues into his price point and he always knew who the hottest new catering companies were. This, of course, also meant that he was always working. The house he prized was never clean, everything was piled with notebooks and binders and folder. His coffee table was a maze of paperwork and notes. Most of which were organized into his computer but he kind of liked having paper. He even had a big black leather paper planner where nearly every day was filled out. With a life like that didn't have time to eat well so his kitchen was full of take out boxes and catering samples. 

Most of that is to say that; when Choi Seughyun knocked on his door at eight in the morning on a Tuesday, his one day off that week he was not amused. The only pencil free block on his planner page. Jiyong, who had just washed his bright blue and pink hair let out a rapturous sigh of frustration.

“What do you want?” Was slipping out of his lips as he threw the door open.

“I had an idea I wanted to run passed you,” The elder offered in his deep rock salt voice. His perfectly coiffed Arctic blue hair indicated ‘business’ but Ji really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Surely he knew better than to bring business into that sacred free day. 

Little lavender drips landed on the towel around that the event planner had around shoulders. 

“Still the same cleaning habits I see,” Seunghyun, who was a gallery owner by the way, cleared his throat as he entered. This is why people don't stay friends with their exes. Too much judgement.

They'd split amicably, obviously, or the cotton candy haired dragon wouldn't be letting the other into his home, but there was still a good amount of strangeness between them. Their break up had been an odd one by community standards because there was no soulmate involved on either side. They'd just...stopped dating. It had also been Jiyong’s last. No more relationships after that. A whole two years single. 

“Well at least they aren't your chairs anymore,” Jiyong retorted. 

The other man shrugged; the fine curve of his shoulders pulled against the loose sweater he was wearing. “I know it's Tuesday,” Seunghyun started.  
Fantastic, it was work. “But there's something I wanted to run by you.”

“You're not going to ask permission so go ahead,” Jiyong interrupted. He took a seat on his rumpled couch. The well worn blue one that had a sunken spot in the middle. 

“A dating event for older loners,” the elder said. 

The pastel haired younger man wrinkled his nose not because he hated the idea but because it wasn't a bad one. If it had been a bad one he wouldn't have asked, “who's paying?”

Wherein Seunghyun launched into the single most impressive analytical tirade the younger man had ever witnessed. He had an actual breakdown of profits for this to become a regular monthly event at his own art gallery if it worked out. Jiyong was so shocked that all he could do was scramble for a pen and write down notes. While he wasn't prone to letting bulldozers come in and plan events for him it was a Tuesday and the blue haired gallery owner had lived with him for a year so his input was valid. Seunghyun had offered his precious gallery as a venue. That spoke volumes. 

“Seunghyun, I didn't know you had this much passion for anything but furniture,” Jiyong snorted as he put his own down.

“It just...seems unfair,” was the unexpected reply, “the older we get the easier it is to give up.”

And then after an extended pseudo silence tapped out with a pad of paper sitting on a binder the older man added, “we shouldn't have to give up on love just because it isn't the perfect match.” 

That statement felt a little pointed but Jiyong was sure it wasn't a jab at him. Perhaps the last failed love affair: the one with the man who did have a soulmate. The cotton candy haired planner couldn't remember the name but it started with an S maybe? Maybe. 

Jiyong ran a hand through his, slick, damp hair and puffed out another sigh, “You're right. I'll see what I can squeeze in here and there. What day do you want?”

Wherein a short argument about why there wasn't any arguing emerged that resulted in a final shouted, “What day do you have?”

“None,” the event planner smiled maniacally and added, “ but I have next Thursday evening because that big birthday party canceled on me,” to the steam crawling out his companion’s ears.

“That sucks,” the blue haired man offered.

The dragon shrugged, “I had a feeling so I got a three quarter deposit up front. No out of pocket for me. And now I get to fill the spot. Win-win.”

“Can you do all of that in a week and a two days though?” Seunghyun asked.

The other snorted again and that was how the conversation both ended and began again as they sat working out details and bouncing ideas off each other on that couch Seughyun hated. Six hours on his day off Jiyong spent laughing and working. A spark of something old rattled through him but he shoved back down because he wasn't about to get the warm fuzzies for a man that he'd wasted two years of his life on. There were very few unforgivable things in the event planners book. He'd made his own mistakes and been to his own dark places but he wasn't about to forget his old friend’s habit sleeping with soul bound men in his spare time. So the warm fuzzies were promptly torched with resentment. 

All of that aside this event seemed like fun. Jiyong might even have considered showing up himself in a capacity other than organizer if he wasn't so tired of dating. Seunghyun's gallery was pretentious, weird in the best ways, and the perfect place for a bunch loners to have clandestine meet up and pair off. The gallery also meant that decor was minimal; and really it gave Seunghyun the perfect excuse to open up his furniture warehouse and pull some of that in. He had some quirky pieces he wasn't married to that just sat proverbially collecting dust. Proverbially because that man would never let dust collect on his actual unused furniture just on the plastic wrap him bound them in before he packed them away. 

Jiyong's only request was to keep the colors coordinated from room to room since he had color themed sections. The dragon man dug lights out of his own warehouse on Wednesday after the big retirement party ended and his tiny six person staff had managed a record fast tear down since it went TWO WHOLE HOURS long. On Thursday he swatch tested his table cloths with the orange room where the food would be. It was an old ballroom with one of those ridiculous center landing balconies. It even had a gorgeously detailed balustrade and two very ornamental stair cases that cascaded down on either side. Very dramatic. Wholly necessary. 10/10. No complaints from an event planner whatsoever. 

He got his linens in order.

He got his lights in order.

He got his plates and glasses in order. 

His employees thought he was going crazy because those weren't typically things a he did on his own. That was the point of having a staff; they did work for him and he got to give final approval. It had been a long time since he'd taken on a whole project himself like that. 

From that one small relief came the hard part; last minute catering. Because the places he normally used just...didn't lend themselves to something as offbeat as this. Jiyong to his food very seriously. This wasn't a southern comfort kind of deal. Mexican street food was good but seemed a little too clunky for the gallery. Fine dining was the obvious answer that was far too obvious to be acceptable. He cursed the venue a couple of times as he scrolled through business cards and sighed. 

Jiyong was on his computer at the office on Sunday night still trying to find the perfect place when his oldest intern Lee Seunghyun, generally referred to as Seungri to avoid confusion, tapped his money knuckles on the doorframe. 

“Bom says you're looking for a catering place for some weird event you won't tell anyone about?” The blonde asked. “It's not a sex thing is is? Don't loners have weird sex parties?”

Oh that was so...yikes, he didn't even have the energy to address that. Maybe he was getting too old to be a loner activist, “It’s a dating thing, at Seunghyun’s gallery,” at the last second he decided to sputter out, “Also maybe don't believe all of the fan fiction you read.”

The younger man was leaning on the door when Jiyong spun around and he offered up, “so like would an American, Asian, French fusion sort of radically, weirdly different kind of place do? Because I know a place. I can give you a phone number.” 

Jiyong was puzzled. Mostly because this seems like the kind of place that should have come up sooner. But also because that was a lot of adjectives.

 

~~~~~  
It was four in the morning and Kang Daesung was soundly asleep before his phone went off with a loud metallic clang, rattling it's way across that awful steel table he swore he was going to get rid of.He ran a hand through his matted honey blonde hair and snatched his phone off the freezing cold bedside table. The head chef of The Big Bang Bistro came to the slow and infuriating realization that he'd had gotten a text message at four in the morning on his day off. His one day off a week. Monday. He loved Monday. He loved Monday and he HATED text messages. 

Usually he would just ignore these things and go and go back to sleep but the angry banner announced that it wasn't someone in his contacts. The head chef made sure that his personal phone number was a matter of life and death, guarded, kept secret, and only given out in emergencies. Daesung hissed out a venomous sigh as he slid his finger across the blindingly bright screen. A little blue bubble popped up followed by two more that read:

551-555-5555:  
Hi Daesung! my name is Kwon Jiyong. Lee Suenghyun is an intern of mine. I'm an event planner.  
That was out of order.  
Anyway; I'm doing this Loner dating event at TOP Gallery on Thursday and I really need a caterer. I know it's short notice but I'm willing to pay for my tardiness. 

Daesung found this funny for two reasons. First being; of course it was Suengri. Who else would it be? To be fair though, this did sound a little bit like an actual emergency of the ritzy New Yorker sort. The second thing that the blonde head chef found funny was that Kwon Jiyong didn't really need to explain his career. Everyone that was anyone in the catering business knew who he was. And, while Daesung was not in the catering business per say, he did kind of hang with that crowd. Those were kind of his people.

He was intrigued so he tapped in the reply bar and called up his keyboard clacking away on the screen quickly. 

Kang Daesung:  
Good morning Kwon Jiyong the event planner. I don't usually cater but I'm curious. What do you need?

The head chef kind of hoped it woke the other man up. Or at least made him jump because that would give him some satisfaction. And then he did something rather peculiar. He tapped through to add the event planner to his contacts. Which he reasoned: was because he hated seeing a phone number in the middle of the screen instead of a name but also having the Kwon Jiyong's number saved in his phone seems like some kind weird achievement. Like if the world ended tomorrow at least he could claim he had a short text conversation with the infamous G-Dragon.  
The G stood for glitter apparently. 

The next three messages came in rapid succession so the buzzing vibrations and the swooping noise overlapped a little. 

Kwon Jiyong, Event Planner:  
I’m so sorry.  
I assumed since Ri gave me your number that you catered.  
Also I didn't check the time before I sent that; I sincerely hope I didn't wake you.

Daesung sat with this for a moment. Maybe just to make the other man squirm because he was still mad about being woken up. Probably a little bit of both. He responded in the same succession just to be facetious really. 

Kang Daesung:  
No worries  
I don’t own a catering business but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to the idea. Expansion is rarely a bad thing. 

And after a long pause he added. 

Who on Earth would be up at this hour of their own free will Kwon Jiyong?

The message he go back was:

Kwon Jiyong, Event Planner:  
Jiyong is fine.  
Lots of people? =/. I’m really sorry Daesung. We just met and I’ve already made a horribly unprofessional impression.

The first part kind of made Daesung laugh. The singer turned chef was just being obnoxious when he’d used the event planner’s full name. 

Kang Daesung:  
Sooo, a loner thing huh?

Kwon Jiyong, Event Planner:  
Yeah, there are a lot of us in the city you know? 

Kang Daesung:  
Did Seungri tell you that too?

Kwon Jiyong, Event Planner:  
Tell me what?

Kang Daesung:  
OH, you were talking about yourself, not me. Well...SURPRISE. I’m what you would call a loner. Anyway: I’ve never catered before so how does this work? What do you want? What’s the procedure? I’m trusting you, a complete and total stranger who woke me up at 4am to not rip me off. 

Kwon Jiyong, Event Planner:  
Is it weird if I call you? 

Kang Daesung:  
Do people still do that?

Kwon Jiyong, Event Planner:  
Only old men with nothing to do at 4am I am told. 

Kang Daesung:  
Well then, in that case, dial away...or click the call button on the screen I guess?

Daesung’s heart may have tried to escape out his mouth when the phone actually did ring and KWON JIYONG, EVENT PLANNER popped up on the screen. He even considered not answering for a good long moment but that was ridiculous. So the chef cleared his sleepy throat and croaked out, “ah ah” a few times trying to get the annoying pop in his voice to adjust and cooperate as he clicked ‘accept’ and swept his finger across the screen. 

“Hello?” he squeaked too roughly into the line. The nodes he’d gotten and been too afraid to get surgery for until it was far too late had not only absolutely wrecked his singing voice, but they’d also made his speaking voice more like coarse gravel than smooth dripping honey. 

“Daesung?” the other man asked. The line crackled or maybe it was just Jiyong breathing. His voice was solid but kind of whiny. He sounded like glitter. But not in the hyper exploding with color kind of way. In the sparkly sophisticated kind of way. 

“Kwon Jiyong?” Daesung asked back. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your family name,” Jiyong inquired without asking. How...New York of him. 

“Kang,” the honey blonde replied, clearing his throat again. 

“Like that broadway singer?”

“Once upon a time we were one in the same.”

Where in Daesung felt obliged to explain that his career had ended when he overworked his voice without proper training and he’d been left to find a new dream at only 20, six years ago. So he had pursued his secondary passion; eating. Which turned into cooking. Which turned into a restaurant but some stroke of crazy luck and a lot of really unfounded confidence.

A chuckle bled through in the cool morning air, some unnecessary apologies were made and the conversation turned to business. Several hours of business. Nothing big or exciting. Numbers. Prices. Times. Places. 

Daesung hung up his phone at 7am and promptly received a text just as he was settling back into bed.

Kwon Jiyong, Event Planner  
You still have a nice voice.

It made him crack a genuine smile. The kind that made his eyes disappear and his teeth show and he wrote back with something very peculiar because he was a peculiar human. 

Kang Daesung  
You sound like fancy glitter.

Kwon Jiyong  
That...is a really strange thing to say  
but I don’t find it inaccurate. 

SInce Jiyong was apparently prone to sending messages in threes there was, of course, a third. A picture. 

A picture of Kwon Jiyong, to be more specific. A selca...selfie? Taken in a clearly messy office, but that didn’t matter so much. The cluttered up desk in the background did nothing to distracted from the man in front, with his super high picture taking angle and very controlled smile that ran tight across his pink lips. Daylight leaking through the window accentuated the event planner’s soft, feminine jawline. A mess of fluffy light blue and pink hair was sweeping across his brow. The poor man looked exhausted despite his apparent cheer.

Underneath it said:  
I do kind of look like glitter after all.

Daesung thought about outright asking if this was flirting because flirting wasn’t really a thing in his life. In fact, flirting was kind of looked down upon in general but especially since he didn’t have any loner friends. Mostly he had work and sleeping. But it seemed like it might ruin the magic to ask. So he just blushed and rolled out of bed so he could stumbled to the bathroom where the lighting was better and he could try to look like less of a baggy eyed train wreck.

From that point on the daily phone calls were all professional...the texting was not so much.  
~~~~~

Jiyong lit up like a christmas tree every time his phone buzzed and he knew it. His staff was starting to give him weird looks because he for sure wasn’t paying attention in the tuesday meeting.

The pastel haired man’s phone rattled again and he smiled like an idiot before he’d even pulled it up. It was a picture of the food being prep starting for his event. His and Daesung’s schedules absolutely refused to line up because both of them were obnoxiously busy so he was going in that evening long after closing to taste food the sous chef was making for him. Jiyong had done the unthinkable and already contracted the restaurant, but it seemed like good policy to eat before serving anyway. Hopefully Murphy’s Law would give him this one disaster free. 

Jiyong  
I’m so excited. 

Was the incredibly embarrassing thing he decided upon replying with. 

Pretty Everything Daesung  
You don’t even know what it is yet.

The story for that name was as follows: he’d been saved as Chef Daesung, and then after the phone call he’d been renamed Pretty Voice Daesung, but after the picture he got assigned a final time to Pretty Everything Daesung. Because that man was...oh he was gorgeous. Broad shoulders, thick arms, abs visible through his shirt and the face of a dorky smiling angel. Mmm. Jiyong hadn’t felt like that about anyone since...ever. 

Jiyong  
Doesn’t matter. I’m sure it could only be better if you were going to be there tonight. 

Pretty Everything Daesung  
=( Sorry but I can’t blow my mom off for a cute boy.

Where in the thought, “He think’s I’m cute,” came out of Jiyong’s actual mouth because Seungri was at the head of the conference room presenting a color scheme for a birthday party huffing about “That better be one important text.”

The snarky boss man then added, “I like plan two but do the red with gold and orange not silver and yellow. The Young family seems more traditional than edgy.”

A collective gasp rattled through the room as he finished out his text with. 

Jiyong  
Man. A cute man. ;)

Because appearances and snark were important when flirting. One of the good lessons Seunghyun had taught him about loner flirting. 

The food actually did impress him. And Jin was the cutest squishiest little ball of pink fluff that Jiyong had ever met in his entire life. The kid was sunshine and cupcakes incarnate. He was hard to get talking but once he loosened up Ji got to listen to stories all about his two soulmates and how they had all met at the same time. It was super cute. 

His phone was buzzing the whole way home, which he was thankful for because it was very late in the evening...past midnight, pitch black, probably not super safe. The highlight of the conversation was probably landing on the topic of soulmates, yet again and having Daesung respond to the event planner’s complete and utter cynicism with “It happened to Kyungsoo on stage at a concert. So it literally could happen anytime, anywhere.”

In a surreal moment of pseudo despair the cotton candy haired man tapped out “I really hope it’s you,” at least six times, deleted it and typed “yeah, I guess so” instead. Because the famous GDragon had gotten his hopes up too many times in the past to live that heartbreak again. 

~~~~

Jiyong was in an out of the Gallery the day of the event. Setting up was no small feat despite the convenience of having color themes set up for him. He’d done plenty of events with thousands of guests in big grand hotels, but this...was so close to his heart that he agonized over every moment of it.

The seemingly neurotic event planner ran through lists in his head every two seconds. Jin came with the food and had everything in warmers. The party was in full swing before he even realized it.He’d been so busy fretting but everything was perfect. 

Everything was fine.

It was great. 

The floor of the orange room was filled with people all dress to the nines. Opulent dresses and suits with ties. It was so Seunghyun...unbearably Seunghyun. 

It was a pressure building in his chest that spilled out his mouth from the top of those ridiculous stairs as a familiar head of honey blonde hair came into view. “KANG DAESUNG!!” The man was in his work clothes. Torn up jeans and a half buttoned chefs coat and he screamed, “KWON JIYONG” back and it was the actual most beautiful moment of Jiyong’s life. 

He was in an old button up with a bowtie and some fashionably torn jeans. He was sweaty and messy and he’d been running around all day. He was tired and his hair was a mess and he face was covered in glitter from that paper mache monstrosity that Dara had dropped on him earlier. 

That’s how the two most underdressed people in a room full of loners finally found each other. Everything stopped, everyone turned to them. Jiyong ran down those stairs like a princess and threw himself into the arms of his soulmate. Finally. Just...finally. The prince of new york event planning stood sobbing on a firm shoulder, held but the strongest arms he had ever known because he finally found his person.


	4. The Impossible Dream (Nev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ken Lee just wanted to be able to perform on Broadway. But one day this small-town boy finds an even better dream when he finally meets his soulmate.

Ken Lee was born in a dusty little town outside of Denver, Colorado – a bit of a nowhere, but it was home. His parents, Korean immigrants, had encouraged him while he was growing up: to be a doctor, to be a lawyer, to be a scientist. Anything he wanted. Well, until he told them that at nineteen-years-old he was dropping out of college and moving to New York City. That had gone about as well as trying to catch a greased pig. His parents had threatened to cut off all support, but really that wasn’t much of a threat. Ken had been saving every single penny he had earned or been given since he was twelve – allowances, New Years, Christmas, birthday, part time jobs – so that one day he could chase his Broadway dreams. He had promised his parents he would do his best before packing up a single bag and moving more than 1700 miles away from home. The money he had saved up was enough for a good start: a small room in a hostel with a bed, a dresser, a desk, and a communal bathroom. Not long after that, he picked up a job as a courier, his mad biking skills finally having a use as he raced across the city. And when he could, Ken would chase after casting calls, waiting for any sort of break.

He’d been five when his Broadway dream had been born. An episode of _Reading Rainbow_ had gone behind the scenes of the musical _Cats_ , and Ken had fallen in love. The makeup, the costumes, the singing – it was all perfection. But most of all, he loved the transformation. On the screen, the actors and actresses went from everyday people to beautiful, fierce cats; they became something so much more than themselves. Ken wanted that. He wanted to stand in the glittering lights of the stage, transformed, and be able to touch the hearts of his audience.

It was an uphill battle, because his family had been unable to afford dance or singing lessons. Getting into productions at school was challenging, too, because he was not exactly the ideal candidate to play the dashing lead and his voice was too overwhelming to be put as a secondary character. But, his drama teacher had done everything she could to help him find the right roles, even going so far as to help him with audition materials after school. The choir teacher, too, had done his best to help Ken chase his dream. Ken had been in every choir he could, even though he could not afford the trips they took to the various competitions and events around the country. In college he had been able to land better roles in the school productions, which was shocking since he was pre-med and not a theatre major. And oh, every taste he got of the stage left him hungry for more.

Six years later, he was still living in New York and chasing that big break. Ken had been able to get into quite a few shows, including a national tour, but nothing really substantial. Nor had he been able to find his soulmate, which was what really concerned his mother. (After so long of him staying afloat in the big city, his parents had given up on him “coming to his senses” and going back to school.) She worried that he was lonely, living all on his own and so far away from everyone who loved him. And, well, to a degree she was right. New York was a busy place full of busy people, which meant that Ken was often too busy to make friends or what friends he did have were too busy to see him very often. It was difficult, but Ken knew that, somehow, he would find his soulmate. When the time was right.

Just before his twenty-sixth birthday, Ken was preparing for yet another audition, but this one was Important. _Les Miserables_ would be returning to Broadway, and after the brouhaha of _Hamilton_ suddenly everyone was diversifying their casting calls. It meant that Ken had the chance to be in one of his dream shows; all he needed was the perfect audition.

When his number was called, Ken took a steadying breath before walking to the front of the theatre where the auditions were being held. He was the first to go after the lunch break – not a bad position, he thought – and managed to beat even the accompanist up onto the stage. The stage manager took his packet of materials, carrying them over to the director and her team. She paused to read over his resume (briefly) before the woman turned her clear blue eyes onto the young Korean-American. “Monologues first, please.” Ken nodded and immediately launched into his pair of monologues. The director watched him so intently that she seemed barely to breathe let alone move, only the scribbling of her pencil on paper broke the illusion that she was anything but stone. When he finished, the director nodded slightly. “And what song will you be performing today?”

At that moment, the accompanist tried to sneak onto stage. He was, in short, beautiful…and also beautifully short. In truth, he was probably only four inches shorter than Ken, but the difference was enough to make him seem small. His eyes were hidden by thick lenses that obscured most of his features (he must have terrible eyesight, Ken thought); but, Ken could see that the pianist had full cheeks and a wide, generous mouth. He was adorable. Smiling to himself, Ken turned his attention back to the director and said, “I will be performing – Lee Junghwan.”

Almost simultaneously, a soft voice called, “Lee Jaehwan.”

Ken’s head whipped to the left, his gaze once again falling on the accompanist. The other man’s hands had clapped over his mouth in surprise, and his eyes appeared even larger behind the lenses of his glasses. A wide, toothy grin pulled Ken’s lips as he stepped towards the other man. “Junghwan?” he repeated, just to be sure. The other man nodded, and Ken felt like lightning had sizzled through him. “You can call me Ken, if you want. And I can get your number after I finish my audition?”

His beautiful, gorgeous, amazing soulmate nodded happily. “I go by Sandeul, most of the time,” he said, his voice rich and lilting. “What you got for me?”

“‘The Prayer’ from _Scarlet Pimpernel._ ” Standing close to his soulmate, Ken pointed to the markings he had left on the sheet music. “From here to here, please.”

Sandeul’s eyes flickered over the pages, and he nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll play the measure before, just to lead you in. Alright?” Tipping his head back, the shorter man gave him a brilliant smile. Ken was so in love.

“Yeah. Sounds great.” He stumbled back to standing at the center, fighting with all his might to not stare at Sandeul as he moved over to the piano. Dragging his eyes back to the director, he found she was beaming at him. “I’ll be performing ‘The Prayer’ from _Scarlet Pimpernel._ ” He could swear he heard the assistant director giggle.

After he finished singing, he thanked the director for her time before moving over to get his sheet music from Sandeul. The blond smiled up at Ken from his seat on the piano bench. “Got your phone on you?”

That day, he left the audition with his new soulmate’s number in his phone and plans to meet up that evening for dinner.

The next day he had moved in with Sandeul into a one-bedroom apartment (with its own kitchen and bathroom, thank you very much.)

And one week later, his phone rang. He would be playing Enjolras.

Dreams did come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be rushed, but it makes me happy anyway. Also, how is there nothing else in the Sandeul/Ken tag??? The Flower Boy Trio is the literal cutest thing ever... Speaking of -wink wink- I don't think these kids are quite set yet.
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments! <3


	5. It Takes Three (Nev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delivery boy Jin gets the kind of tip money can't buy.

Being a delivery boy wasn’t a bad job. Jin got to travel around the city and was at least in the right industry, sort of. Sure, it wasn’t being a chef, like he wanted, but it was helping in his search for his soulmate. Every new door he knocked on was the opportunity to have his beautiful soulmate’s name pour from his lips, and it made his job that much more thrilling to have that possibility hanging in the air. Of course, when he went to a house in the newly mated district his hopes essentially vanished; unless someone had a friend visiting, he was simply out of luck in that area. He did enjoy visits to that side of town, though, because the gardens were nicely kept and the buildings were on the whole very pretty. Another perk of having a soulmate, he guessed, was the sort of housing that opened up to you.

That night, sadly, had been runs only to the soulmate housing district, and it was wearing on Jin a little bit. (The rainy weather probably didn’t help either.) But, as it came down to the last order of his shift, the blond clocked out – reasoning that he could then just go home after his shift – and grabbed the bag. “See ya tomorrow,” he called, getting matching waves from the kids behind the counter. Going out to his bike, he carefully strapped the back into its protective case before setting the address in his phone. Then, pushing off, he pedaled off down the street – rain soaking through his jacket far too fast for his liking. But hey, another fifteen minutes and he could head home: pajamas, cocoa, and _Mario Brothers_ here he came.

Parking his bike outside the building, he carefully locked it up before looking up. It was a nice enough place – clean, well maintained, airy – but not overwhelming. Reasonable, he figured would be the best word for it. It seemed like a building that normal people with normal soulmates would live in. He smiled a little. Maybe one day, when he was a chef, he and his soulmate could live in a building like this one. The upward curve of his lips remained as he walked through the front doors and climbed into the elevator, humming under his breath as he rose to the right floor. Jin checked the address on the receipt once more, just to be sure, before knocking on the door to apartment 1992. While he waited, he fussed with the bag to make certain the contents were warm and dry, as they should be.

Inside, Ken sat up with a nearly manic grin. “Food,” he cried, lurching up to his feet in a sudden burst of speed that made Sandeul’s fingers stumble on the piano keys. Ignoring the unimpressed look his soulmate was giving him, Ken darted over to find his wallet and pulled out a wad of bills. “And tonight I’m buying, because I love you.”

“And because it’s your turn,” the pianist pointed out, fighting back a wide smile of his own.

“That too,” Ken cooed, pausing long enough to make kissy lips at his beloved. It had been seven months since they had first met, and everything was more amazing than Ken could ever put into words. He got to wake up every single morning to the most beautiful face ever (if he squinted past the drool, bed hair, and morning breath). It was like living with his best friend, but even better because they got to have sex. Sandeul even sang along with Disney movies, matching Ken’s enthusiasm (and sometimes exceeding it). But there was still the feeling that something was not quite right. Like an itch on the inside of his nose, Ken could not quite make things as perfect as everyone said they should be. He had his soulmate, he was starting to get better roles, and he finally had a bathroom he didn’t have to share with fifteen people. What more could he need? Trying to keep his smile on his lips, Ken pushed the thoughts aside and turned for the door.

As he reached out, putting his hand on the knob, he suddenly spoke: “Kim Seokjin.” From the other side of the door, he heard a muffled voice. Eyes wide, he ripped the door open and stared at the man on the other side. “Kim Seokjin?” he repeated, gaping.

The man in front of him was a different kind of gorgeous from his Sandeul. Where Sandeul was small and soft, Jin was tall and broad. And, well, soft too, now that Ken took a closer look. His pouty lips and big, round eyes gave him the air of an innocent doe, which was admittedly a bit confusing. “Lee Jaehwan?”

“Uh, yeah.” Ken ran a hand through his hair, still attempting to process what was going on. He had never, in his entire life, actually met someone who had two soulmates. (In fact, he was from a conservative enough community that two soulmates were considered taboo, as though you were somehow immoral if you were dedicated to more than one person.) But there, standing in all his glory, was Ken’s second soulmate. “I go by Ken, mostly. You, uh, want to come in?”

“Babe, who is it?” Sandeul called, closing the lid of the piano.

Jin’s eyes went wide. Was his soulmate one of the Loners who hooked up with people, even though they were supposed to wait for their soulmates? He felt a twinge of disappointment. Would his soulmate even want him if he was already in a relationship with someone else? After hesitating for a moment, Jin shuffled past Ken and into the small but neat apartment. His eyes lifted from the floor in time to see a man (his soulmate’s partner?) rise from the piano with a smile. The moment their eyes met, a second name spilled from his lips, “Lee Junghwan.” His eyes went impossibly wide.

“Kim Seokjin,” the pianist stuttered, looking equally flustered.

Beside Jin, Ken began to laugh, his eyes pulling into wrinkle-edged crescents. “Sandeul, babe, I think we’re going to have to make more room in the closet. And get a bigger bed.” Because he wasn’t going to let _either_ of his soulmates get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world needs more F3 fics. For science.


End file.
